


Take me with you when the world stops

by chaengramji



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, Supernatural Elements, tzuyu is pretty much sanayeon's baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27329608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaengramji/pseuds/chaengramji
Summary: Chou Tzuyu, a transfer student from Taiwan, finds a way to escape from situations that make her life just a bit more difficult than it already is.That is, except for a situation called Kim Dahyun.
Relationships: Chou Tzuyu/Kim Dahyun, Im Nayeon/Kim Dahyun, Im Nayeon/Minatozaki Sana, Im Nayeon/Yoo Jeongyeon
Comments: 16
Kudos: 59





	1. Oh, it's Tzuyu-ssi

It's been one year since I started high school in Seoul.

One year since I left my hometown for the first time, urged by my parents to venture out into the world and experience things that I otherwise wouldn't if I stayed in the same country.

One year since I stepped foot into an entirely foreignland, the words "Hello" and "Thank you" being the only ones I could say with confidence in Korean, while stumbling miserably over the rest.

One year since I found out I can stop the world from moving for exactly seven minutes each day.

After giving it some thought, I came to the conclusion that it was pointless to ask why this ability was given to me, and who decided I should have it. So I've gone ahead and treated this information as one of the obvious facts of life: The sky is blue, Earth has seven continents, and the world around me freezes once each day, for seven minutes.

I'd like to believe that my parents raised me to be more or less morally upright, so I've only ever used this ability for trivial things like getting away from the boys in my year who wanted to confess their feelings for me because they thought I was pretty or something, and from the girls in my class who only ever spoke to me so they'd have a morsel or two to gossip about to their friends.

I'd like to say that I was able to make friends in the past year—if only that were true. The language barrier made it difficult, and to a point, exhausting. The only person who's been patient enough to make sincere conversation with me on a daily basis, despite my only reactions being small nods and tight-lipped smiles here and there, is a short, wide-eyed girl named Son Chaeyoung. 

Someday, when I know all the words, I promise to let her know how much I appreciate her for trying so hard.

But today, as my mind becomes too spent to catch up with all the Korean tumbling out of her mouth, I feel the need to escape yet again—even from her.

So at that moment, I take a deep breath, tuning out all the sounds around me, and squeeze my eyes shut. Not even a heartbeat later, I'm met with static silence.

I open my eyes and watch Chaeyoung's gaze freeze mid-sparkle, lips parted in a cute, toothy grin. I guess she has a particular fondness for whatever it was she'd been talking to me about.

I stand up and step around a paper airplane stuck in mid-air, taking little glances at the classmates who, judging by their statue-esque positions right then, either used this study period to take naps, chat with friends, play around with their phones, or get some actual studying done.

On most days, I would use my seven minutes to takeshort walks down the hallway, content with the stillness surrounding me, the only things in motion being myself and my thoughts. 

For seven minutes, I don't have to pretend not to hear the way people in my class sometimes gossip about Chou Tzuyu: The second year transfer student from Taiwan who is too closed off for anyone to be friends with, who only keeps the same icy expression on her face every day, who could easily become as popular in school as Kim Dahyun if she would only talk more.

Being the two newer students in the class, with me transferring last year and shethis year, I find myself being compared to Kim Dahyun the most.

Kim Dahyun is the most well-liked student in my year, despite being one year older than most of our classmates. The girls in our class affectionately call her "Dahyun unnie", and a crowd always forms around her as soon as the teachers leave the room. She would get several love confessions from male schoolmates, and unlike me, she gives them dazzling smiles, and unlike me, she never runs away.

At this hour, Kim Dahyun is sitting on a bench at the school courtyard, a book in hand. Even from the window I am looking out of from the second floor, her perfect posture, her peculiarly pale skin, and her straight, jet-black hair make her stand out from the cluster of students frozen around her.

My mind drifts to the first time Kim Dahyun introduced herself to our class at the start of the year. I remember feeling a wave of relief wash over me then, certain that this new student would give my classmates something else to pay attention to, to nitpick, and to scrutinize besides me.

And now, almost two months later, she is still being paid attention to, nitpicked and scrutinized behind her back, if the whispers from some classmateswhich I manage to decipher between classes are any indication.

In a way, I'm both grateful and sorry for her at the same time. I would never tell her that, though.

Despite how good Kim Dahyun is at naturally drawing people toward her, I doubt I would ever gather enough confidence to even say a word to her. Even if I want to.

But maybe, just maybe, in these seven minutes when no one is watching, I can muster the right amount of courage to sit next to her.

Just to see if her ability to draw people in works just as well when she isn't moving.

My mind pulls me back to the present, while my feet lead me right in front of where Kim Dahyun is perched on, unblinking, eyes on her book. 

Another obvious fact of life I should probably take note of: Kim Dahyun is a lot more beautiful up close. The way her hair is tucked behind one ear, the way her gaze zeroes in on the part of the page of the book she is on, the way her carefully-glossed pink lips are stretched out thoughtfully in what looks like a permanent smile...

A thought that would never have even crossed my mind if the world was in motion suddenly comes to the forefront: _I wonder what Kim Dahyun-ssi's lips feel like?_

Maybe it's the certainty that no one would ever see, or perhaps it's the thrill of doing something without knowing when exactly the world would start moving once more (or a combination of both), but at that moment, for some reason I can't quite pinpoint, I am filled with just enough courage to satisfy my curiosity. To do more than just sit next to her.

Still, I can hear my heart pounding in my ears as I slowly kneel in front of Kim Dahyun, and with trembling hands, tilt her chin upwards.

As I inch ever closer towards her lips, my eyes closing shut, I fail to notice how there is a breeze behind her that lightly blows some of her hair forward. I also fail to see her gaze widening one whole second before my lips meet hers.

I brush it off as my imagination when I feel a tickle, that suspiciously feels like eyelids fluttering, just below the bags of my eyes.

But then I feel a small, warm hand laying on my cheek another second later, and I get so startled that, with my eyes flying open, I jerk back and land on my butt with a loud thud.

And the last thing I hear is an eerily calm voice saying, "Oh, it's Tzuyu-ssi," before the world starts turning again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to the 8 or 9 datzu shippers out there (lol just kidding I really hope there are more of us). Just a disclaimer, this story is largely based on the manga "Fragtime". This is one of the few times I'm actually making a chaptered story, so wish me luck please and I hope you like this enough to wait a little patiently for the next chapter.


	2. I told you, it's not stopping time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tzuyu realizes that Dahyun moving while the rest of the world stays still is not going to be a one-time thing. 
> 
> So is the annoying urge to kiss her, it seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a bit late! Work has been more of a demanding mf than it usually is. 
> 
> Slight tw// for mentions of implied prostitution and implied sexual harassment of a high school student by a teacher. 
> 
> Otherwise, this is just a little rollercoaster of fluff, angst and a Chou Tzuyu who is perpetually socially awkward but always means well.

One thing I've noticed throughout the past year is that, every day, for seven minutes, I either stop the world, or the world stops itself.

At times, I'd be walking to my apartment from school, or washing my hands in the bathroom, when it happens. The birds in the air cease flapping their wings but somehow still hang, suspended in the sky; the jet of water from the faucet stops right before the first drops can make it to the sink, making it look like a fluid pillar of sorts.

On days when I decide not to use my so-called ability, the world around me freezes up anyway, every single day, without fail.

This morning, I am busily scribbling notes related to contemporary Korean literature when the classroom suddenly falls dead silent. I look up to find our teacher, Mr. Jung, standing still with a slight slouch and his back to us, right arm raised, stuck in the middle of writing with a whiteboard marker on hand.

I straighten in my seat and take a deep breath. I don't feel like passing the time walking down the hallway today. I suppose I can just wait this out, and lose myself in my thoughts without interruption—

"You're doing it again."

—or I can snap my neck the hardest I've ever had in my entire life, in the direction of a voice that should not have been there.

I've been convincing myself that what happened yesterday must have been a fluke, that I might not have calculated the time correctly. Kim Dahyun couldn't possibly have moved while the rest of the world stayed still. Right?

Yet here she is, doing exactly that as she stares at me with slightly narrowed eyes, wordlessly challenging me to defend myself.

"I'm not doing anything," I mutter, turning back towards my desk. "Not today at least," I add softly. 

About a minute later, I hear Kim Dahyun's chair scrape against the floor as she stands, and then a few slow, deliberate footsteps as she walks in between the rows of seats in the room. She seems to be taking it all in, seeing but still not quite believing that no one is moving except for the both of us.

I look up when I see her pause in front of me, arms crossed, her brows furrowing together in thought.

"So," she drags the word out, as if still trying to piece together whatever else she is going to say next, "You can stop time?"

"It's—It's not exactly stopping time," I start slowly, translating the words in my head to the handful of conversational Korean vocabulary I've managed to pick up over time. It feels strange, talking about this phenomenon to another person for the very first time. Stranger still because it is Kim Dahyun, of all people. "Time still runs, it's just that everything around me... doesn't."

"Except me," the other girl says a matter-of-factly. "Why?"

"I don't know," I say with a shrug. "You weren't moving, just like everyone else... until yesterday."

"Oh, right. Yesterday," a faint but clearly teasing smile appears at the corner of her mouth, "When you kissed me."

My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth as I feel my cheeks burn at both Dahyun's statement and the memory of her lips on mine.  I still don't know why I did it.

Thankfully, Dahyun doesn't wait long for an answer, and asks another question instead. "How much do we have left before time starts again?"

"I told you, it's not stopping time—" I cut myself off with an exasperated sigh. Maybe I shouldn't waste my energy elaborating on the logistics of an ability that isn't even supposed to exist. My gaze falls to my wristwatch, the seconds still ticking for the sole reason that it is physically attached to me. "Two minutes."

Dahyun hums. "Great. There's something I've wanted to do for a while now."

"Wh-What are you—" I stammer, looking on with wide eyes as she takes a few decisive strides (that seem a little too wide for a girl her height) towards the front of the room, right where Mr. Jung stands, still frozen.

I barely see one side of her jaw clench, but the rage burning like a well-fed flame in her eyes is all too clear from where I'm sitting.

This is all the warning I get before she gives Mr. Jung a hard slap on his left cheek. The sound crackles not unlike a whip, and I would probably not have heard the muted sniffling that comes after if the room wasn't as silent as it is right then.

Dahyun turns around and speed-walks towards her desk, taking her seat just as my watch hits sixty seconds, and before I can open my mouth to speak, the classroom is once again buzzing with activity, as if the past seven minutes never happened.

She laughs softly at something that the girl beside her whispers, letting out a telltale wince as she hides one still-stinging palm under her table.

I want to ask her why she would do such a thing,but for some reason, the faint redness on the rims of her eyes stops me from prying. At least, for now.

I watch as a puzzled Mr. Jung rubs a hand on his sore cheek, but otherwise continues to scrawl on the whiteboard, none the wiser.

I try listening to the room as it comes alive with scattered chatter, but end up deaf to everything except my still-racing thoughts and my equally racing heartbeat.

I may or may not have heard Chaeyoung's voice call out ("Hey, Tzuyu-ssi, are you okay?") as she turns from her seat in front of me.

Ironically, this time, I am the one who becomes still while the rest of the world moves around me.

\-----

"Tzuyu-ah! I'm home!" I hear a familiar voice float from the entrance to my apartment that evening, pulling me back to reality, where I find myself sitting on a fairly comfortable sofa, staring at the mint green wall behind the TV.

I blink, and it occurs to me that I'd been going through the motions the entire day until I got home, my body on autopilot while my mind occupied itself trying to dissect the memory of what happened this morning with Kim Dahyun. 

With a small shake of my head, I decide to push it to the back of my mind and head towards the door, knowing by the little giggles I'm hearing, that at least one of the two people on the other side of it may very well be the clumsiest girl in all of Seoul.

"Ah-tzi," I say in my first language by reflex, immediately taking one of the takeout bags hangingalmost by a thread from my roommate Im Nayeon's fingers. "Careful with that."

"Tell that to Sana," Nayeon answers with a laugh, playfully nudging the girl beside her as we all make our way to the dining table to set down the remaining bags of food. "She's the one who's always dropping stuff."

Sana doesn't bother defending herself, instead giving Nayeon a cheeky grin and saying, "It's one of the things you like about me though, right, Nayeonnie?" 

Nayeon's teasing expression instantly softens as she mumbles "Maybe a little", and Sana probably thinks that's all the answer she needs, because right then she turns and pulls me into one of her signature Sana hugs that usually last just a little bit longer than I'm comfortable with.

"Tzuyu-ah!"

"Hi Sana unnie," I greet her once she pulls away. I don't bother asking if she'd be staying over tonight. From my experience, when she and Nayeon arrive together at around this time, she almost never gets home until the next day.

"Why am I 'unnie'," Sana starts, a pout making its way to her lips as she starts setting the table, "But you call Nayeon unnie 'Ah-tzi'?"

"Come on, Sana-yah, you bring this up every time," Nayeon calls out, amused, from her spot at the kitchen counter where she's transferring the takeout on to separate bowls and plates. 

"But I want to be 'Ah-tzi' too!"

"I can't call you that, unnie," I answer, sounding a little more blunt than I intended. "It's not your family that's been visiting mine in Taiwan for work every year since we were kids. And Ah-tzi can actually speak a little Mandarin."

"Maybe try getting Mina to call you 'one-chan' before coming for Tzuyu," Nayeon adds, snickering when she sees the other girl give her a dirty look.

Sana plops down on one of the dining chairs with a defeated huff. "That's never gonna happen," she whines. "She says there's no point in calling me and Momo that because we're not much older than her."

I take a seat across Sana, and Nayeon takes the one at the head of the table. I try to listen to their usual banter and gossip for the first few minutes, choosing to politely ignore the warm, affectionate, and painfully obvious non-platonic smiles they keep throwing each other, but end up zoning out as they both know I'm prone to doing every so often.

While my mother and father have always been eager for me to learn living independently, they'd put in a decent amount of planning to make sure they wouldn't need to worry about my safety and well-being. And so, seeing as how the Im family has had close business and family ties with my own for a long time now, we've already known that Nayeon has been living in an apartment close to her university; and my father was all too quick to ask Nayeon's parents if I could stay with her for the next couple of years. 

How both my parents could trust Nayeon so much, despite the times she had dragged me to all sorts of mischief when we were younger, I would probably never be able to completely wrap my head around. And yet, she has actually been doing a fairly good job looking out for me since I moved here with her. 

I'm not sure I would ever tell her, but I get the feeling she already knows I look up to her as the older sister I never had.

So why is Kim Dahyun the first to know about my secret, but I've never once thought of talking about it with Nayeon?

"Mei Mei," I hear Nayeon say, in a tone that's gentler and more subdued than her usual rowdy one. I notice she only ever uses the Mandarin term for "younger sister" when she's worried about me. "Did something happen today?"

I look up from the plate of tteokbokki that I've been poking carelessly with my chopsticks to find the older girl and Sana looking at me, both wearing identically concerned looks.

"Um, not really," I lie, forcing a smile to try and ease their worry. "Just the usual school stuff. That's all."

Sana lays a hand on top of mine, and the act is surprisingly soothing, largely because it comes from someone who I know genuinely cares about me. "Hey, you know you can talk to me and Nayeonnie about anything, right?" Her lips curl into a thoughtful frown as she continues, slowing down to choose her next words. "I had some trouble when I first moved here too, so I think I understand some of what you're going through. Or if you'd rather talk to Mina because she's closer to your age, I can call her for you—"

"Sana unnie, it's okay," I cut in, wearing a poker face, but a second later breaking into a smile that's a lot more sincere than the one I wore earlier. "I promise I'm fine. But thank you. For always looking out for me and Ah-tzi all this time."

I can see Nayeon's eyes well up with emotion at that, and how she tries to hide it by reaching out and fondly ruffling Sana's hair. "She's right," she says. "If it wasn't for you, Momo and Mina taking me in that time, I probably would've ended up on the streets when I ran away from home."

Her words make the memories of the time I'd first met Sana surface in my mind right then. It was about two years ago, during Nayeon's first year in university. Ever since communicating long distance was made easier with the use of chat apps and FaceTime, Nayeon and I often kept in touch (We quickly became comfortable despite speaking in a mix of broken Mandarin and Korean, accompanied by various hand gestures, miraculously still managing to understand each other perfectly), and so I'd long since known that she'd been having problems avoiding all the arranged lunch or dinner dates with family friends' sons her parents kept setting her up with since her high school graduation. 

Her troubles only seemed to get even more difficult when it dawned on her that the reason she hated going on those dates was because she's actually attracted to women instead of men. I remember her waking me up in the middle of the night with a frantic phone call, my heart sinking as I heard her clearly holding back sobs on the other line and whispering, "What do I do?" over and over. (Powerless as I felt back then, all I could do was listen and tell her she'd always be the same Nayeon to me, no matter who she likes.)

I remember suddenly not hearing from her for weeks after that call, and when I'd told my father about it, he'd called the Ims right on the spot, only to hang up after a few minutes, letting me know that Nayeon's parents were grounding her as punishment—for what, they wouldn't say, but I was almost certain it involved them finding out about her sexuality.

And then, after almost twenty-one days of constant worrying, I answered a video call from an unknown number, and instantly felt surges of relief wash over me the moment I saw Nayeon's wide grin, her two front teeth as prominent as ever. She started with an apology for not contacting me for so long, and explained that she had left home and was using a classmate's phone.

The owner of said phone turned out to be Minatozaki Sana, whose head popped up beside Nayeon's on the screen a few minutes into our conversation. "Hello, Tzuyu-ssi! Don't worry about Nayeon unnie, she's living with us now!" she'd said cheerfully, hooking an arm around a slightly flustered, but equally happy-looking Nayeon, who did her best to translate Sana's words for me. 

A little later, I would learn that, by "us", she meant her childhood friends Momo and Mina, whose parents turned out to be close, much like mine and Nayeon's. (For some odd reason, the three Japanese girls had once made a pact to move to Korea, of all places, and their parents were the type to pretty much let them grow where they wanted to. The only condition they'd set was that the three of them live under one roof and take care of each other.)

The fact that Sana had wholeheartedly welcomed my closest friend—who back then she didn't know much about except for her name and the handful of classes they shared—into her home and treated her as family is enough to earn my trust, as well as fondly tolerate her overly affectionate gestures and the bright, boundless energy she always seems to possess at all hours of the day.

I wasn't the least bit surprised to see Sana along with Nayeon picking me up from the airport a year ago, giving me the first of what would turn out to be many, many tight hugs within the foreseeable future.

Sana seems to follow my line of thinking and beams at me and Nayeon. "It's nothing. I know you'd both do the same for me. I'm just glad your parents accepted you eventually, Nayeon unnie."

"I'm just glad they're paying for this apartment as an apology," Nayeon says smugly. She later grows a little more serious when she faces me. "Tzuyu-ah, like Sana said, you can talk to us if anything's bothering you. You know that, right?"

I nod. "I know, Ah-tzi. Well, actually," I add, trying not to laugh at the girls' expectant looks, "There is something that's been bothering me. About you two."

I see Nayeon's face pale immediately, while Sana stares at me with wide, scared eyes. "U-Um, what about us?" Nayeon stammers, and I don't miss the panicked look she shoots at the other girl.

"I just think it's weird that you've been kissing and holding hands when you think I'm not looking, but none of you have told me that you're together." I pause, mischievously narrowing my eyes at them. "Unless that's just something you do for fun."

They both gape at me like fish out of water, and I take advantage of their silence by taking my plate to the sink and retreating towards my room. But before I twist the knob on my bedroom door, I decide to tease them just a little more by adding, "You better figure it out soon."

I let out a little chuckle when I hear both of them start bickering as soon as I close the door behind me. 

Having Nayeon and Sana in my life—and by extension, Momo and Mina who I'd met several times over the past year—truly makes the fact that I don't have much of a social life in school a lot more bearable. 

Besides, I'm not completely hopeless in that aspect, am I? I do have at least two classmates talking to me now: Son Chaeyoung, who makes such an effort that I feel guilty enough to reciprocate even a little bit; and Kim Dahyun, a supposedly mild-mannered girl who slapped a teacher today for a reason I still haven't figured out—

_ I need to stop freezing the world on purpose when I'm around her,_ I think. I really don't want to witness whatever questionable thing she might do next.

But as I would later find out in the next few days, the powers that pull life's strings have no respect for what I decide, and will end up doing whatever it wants anyway.

I should have known that things would never be easy for me the moment I kissed Kim Dahyun.

\-----

"I think I know why time doesn't stop for me," Dahyun says the next afternoon, standing up from her seat and stretching her arms as soon as she notices the lack of movement from everyone else in the classroom.

I bite my tongue to stop myself from telling her, for the nth time, that it's not actually time that stops. Instead of answering, I follow her movements with my eyes, waiting for her to continue.

I expect her next words to be nothing useful when I see a her lips pull into a smirk. "It's because you have a crush on me. Don't you, Tzuyu-ssi?"

"W-What does that have to do with anything?" I retort, feeling my cheeks heat up in embarrassment and in a tinge of offense. I find myself wishing I'd already learned the Korean word for presumptuous, because I have quite the desire to throw it at her right then.

"I don't know. Maybe you just want me all to yourself."

"I'd actually rather just leave you  _ by yourself,_ Kim Dahyun-ssi," I say with a straight face, moving to stand up myself and go somewhere, anywhere, Dahyun isn't.

I'm slightly surprised when the shorter girl is suddenly at my side, looking apologetic. "Come on, I was just kidding. Don't go." Looking away, she mutters, "I'll feel weird being here on my own."

What little annoyance I'd felt towards her before then seems to disappear into thin air when I see her lower lip jutting out in an obviously exaggerated—but somehow still endearing—pout. I let out a sigh, lowering myself onto my seat again.

We fall into a much easier and less tense conversation after that, trading trivial information about each other, Dahyun mostly asking me random questions that seem to come out of nowhere.

"What do you think about Korean trot music?" ("It's pretty interesting. I've listened to a few songs. The ones singing always sound like they're in a musical.")

"Do you like cats or dogs better?" ("Definitely dogs," I reply all too quickly, my enthusiasm on this particular topic getting the best of me. "I have a dog back home named Gucci. We grew up together.")

"Would you rather stay up late or wake up early to study?" ("I want to wake up early, but I'm always staying up to study because I have trouble sleeping, anyway.")

"How about you, Dahyun-ssi? What do you like better, chocolate or vanilla?" (Her eyes light up immediately, as if she'd been itching for someone to ask her to reveal her most well-kept secret for the longest time. "Chocolate for sure! If you give me chocolate, I'll love you forever!")

Maybe it's the way she looks at me with so much patience while she waits for me to put my thoughts into words she can understand, or how she doesn't seem to mind when I pronounce something less than perfectly. But for whatever reason, I slowly start to feel at ease talking with her, and by the time our seven minutes are over, I glumly think it's way too soon.

For the next few days I stop myself from using my ability at will, but fate has its own plans and puts everything to a halt at whatever time it wants—and as it turns out, it's always when Kim Dahyun is in the same place as I am, which fate surely knows is the last thing I want to happen. 

And it really is. At first. 

"Um, Dahyun-ssi, there's something I want to ask," I start, after about a week of mini-debates on a variety of things such as what's the best ice cream flavor, or whether it's traditional or modern medicine that cures a cold faster (Right then, we've just finished asking each other our opinion on how easy or difficult it is to tell one type of banana from another.), "if you don't mind."

Dahyun gives me a knowing look from where she sits on the classroom floor, leaning against the wall closest to the door. "Okay, sit here and tell me," she answers, patting the space beside her. Seeing my puzzled expression, she simply says, "If you sit with me like this, it'll feel like we're friends sharing a secret."

"Friends?" I repeat, standing from my seat with some hesitation, eventually joining the other girl, my legs stretched out significantly farther from her shorter ones.

"Sure. You want to be friends, right?"

Do I? I know for sure that I want Chaeyoung to be my friend, once I get around to telling her that, that is. Yet, for some reason, putting Dahyun in just the same category doesn't sit well with me. It feels wrong, somehow, like forcing a puzzle piece into a spot it's not supposed to be even when you  know it belongs somewhere entirely different.

I feel a pinch of guilt when I see Dahyun's face fall a little bit at my lack of response. She quickly hides it a second later by giving me an understanding smile and asking me what my question is, though I have a feeling she's already expecting it.

Despite my earlier reluctance, I swallow, and look up at her questioningly before I speak. "Why do you choose to be around people who keep spreading rumors about you behind your back?"

Sure enough, she doesn't seem fazed by my words. "Why not?" she replies, nonchalant. "It's not like there's no truth to the rumors."

Of all the things Kim Dahyun could say, this is the one answer I'm definitely not expecting. 

"What—What do you mean?"

"I mean, it  is  true that I stopped going to school for a year to work at a night club that let me in even if I was a minor. That's what they've been saying, right?"

"Y-Yeah. It is."

She sighs, and the weariness that clouds her eyes pulls at my chest. "So... Why bother defending myself from something that's technically true anyway?" 

The guilt from earlier comes back to me with a vengeance, gnawing at the corners of my mind. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you that. I was just..."

Dahyun turns her head to me, the tiredness in her gaze abruptly replaced by a spark of mischief as her lips begin to curl up almost evilly. "I know. You're worried about me, aren't you, Tzuyu-ssi?" she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, in a way that makes me feel both like laughing at her and giving her a good flick on the forehead. "Because of your crush on me."

I roll my eyes in response. "You're hopeless," I mumble, pushing myself off the floor to go back to my seat. I'm pretty sure I don't have much time before the bubble surrounding the both of us bursts, once the world starts up again.

"Hey, Tzuyu-ssi," Dahyun calls out, standing up herself, albeit with more reluctance, like she doesn't want to end the conversation just yet.

"Yes?"

"I learned something in Mandarin the other day," she tells me seriously. She purses her lips for a few seconds, trying to remember the words. I tilt my head to one side, listening intently, deciding to humor her this once.

"Wo ai ni," she says slowly, her coffee-brown eyes shining with a sincerity that I don't think I've ever seen from her until today. "Did I say it right?"

Time doesn't give me a chance to respond as, less than a second later, the bubble of silence surrounding us is popped by the figurative needle belonging to the world whirring back into motion.

"Kim-haksaeng, what are you doing standing there? Get back to your seat," our fourth period teacher scolds her.

"Sorry, Kang-seongsaengnim," the girl apologizes with a bow.

Amidst the noise and the movements from everything around us, at that moment, all I see is the brightness and warmth in Kim Dahyun's smile as she looks up at me, before making her way to her designated table in the classroom.

At that moment, all I hear is the silkiness of her voice as the Mandarin words for "I love you" play over and over in my head. 

All I feel is a warm chill that settles somewhere in my chest, touched at the thought of someone other than Nayeon making an effort to learn words in my native tongue.

And it's right at that moment when a part of me finally admits to looking forward to our next conversations.

\-----

"You look happier these days," Chaeyoung comments two days later, after our last class ends and majority of the students rush to leave the room. 

Unlike them, we both hang back, packing our books into our bags at a relatively slow pace. 

"Really?" 

She nods vigorously. "Smiles look good on you, Tzuyu-ssi," she says with an earnest look on her face that makes me think of a little kid who's incapable of lying.

I feel my face flush a little at the compliment. "Thank you, Chaeyoung-ssi." 

On a normal day, this would have been the end of our conversation, but today, a voice in my head urges me to try harder with the other girl, for once.

"Chaeyoung-ssi, I know it hasn't been easy talking with me, so I..." I let out the words I'd been wanting to say to her for the past year or so. "I want to thank you. And apologize for not being good at making conversation."

"Well, you can make it up to me by speaking to me informally from now on," the shorter girl replies, using informal language herself. "Deal?" she holds out her pinky finger.

"Okay," I agree, all too glad to link my pinky with hers. "It's a deal, Chaeyoung-ah."

"Great!" she cheers, putting the last of her things—mostly colored pens, a couple of paintbrushes, and little tubes of paint—into her backpack. "I need to go to art club in a few minutes. Where are you headed?"

My gaze drifts to one particular desk in the room that's been empty since after lunch earlier today. "I'm not sure yet. I'm... I'm waiting for someone."

"I'm willing to bet that 'someone' is the reason you've been smiling a lot lately," Chaeyoung teases lightly. "Wanna walk outside together? I can go as far as the courtyard. You can wait for her there."

I'm taken aback at how the girl seems to know who I'm waiting for despite her never having seen Dahyun and I talk to each other before. Even so, I follow her out of the room and outside of the building, making small talk until we reach the courtyard, where we both say our goodbyes.

"Bye, Tzuyu-ah! Hope Dahyun unnie doesn't keep you waiting too long!"

"Wha— I never said—" I stutter, too surprised and panicked to form a coherent sentence.

Chaeyoung simply laughs and waves before walking to the club building on the other side of the school campus.

Just then, I feel a few gentle taps on my shoulder, and I turn to come face to face with Dahyun herself.

"Tzuyu-ssi," she says, wearing what looks like a guilty smile on her lips. "Looks like time still stopped today even when we weren't together, huh?"

There's a sudden, unexplainable urge to wrap her in a hug right then, but I try to push it away, even as a part of me starts to imagine what it might be like to hold her closer. 

(Although I do have to bite the inside of my cheek to control my urge to let her know, yet again, how flawed her understanding is of the phenomenon that seems to affect everything except the both of us.)

"Sorry I left early," she continues. "I know I already told you I'd be gone for half a day today to take care of something, but—"

"You don't have to explain," I begin, but my next words are interrupted by a brown paper bag being all but pushed in front of my nose. "What's this?"

"My apology. You said you like bread, right?"

"O-Oh. Yeah, I did."  I'm surprised she remembers something I'd only said in passing.

"My neighbor Jeongyeon's family owns a bakery nearby, so I thought I'd pick up something for you."

"You didn't have to, Dahyun-ssi," I say, but then quickly add, "Thank you, though, I'll enjoy it", because, flustered or not, there is no way in the world I would refuse free bread.

"Unnie," Dahyun blurts, suddenly interested in looking for specks of dirt on her carefully-polished black shoes. She clears her throat, and in a voice that's just a bit clearer than earlier, she says, "You should call me unnie from now on." She straightens her back a little, looking at me resolutely and adding, "I am a year older than you are, after all."

"Dahyun... unnie," I test the words on my tongue. 

The grin is back on the older girl's face just like that, her eyes turning into a couple of upside-down crescent moons, and I'm too preoccupied trying to make sense of the fluttering feeling in my stomach to notice that my lips start turning up at the corners, too. 

"Say, Tzuyu-ah, are you doing anything this weekend?"

\-----

Sana is in my room on Saturday morning, sitting behind me on my vanity, brushing my hair while humming to some pop song or other. It's not uncommon for her to do this when she comes to our apartment in the day time, and she says she likes it because she's used to doing the same thing for Mina from time to time.

Today, she'd explained when I let her inside, she's waiting for Nayeon to finish her midterm exam on a class they don't have together, so they can try the iced coffee in a recently-opened cafe they'd always wanted to go to. (Their perpetual obsession with iced beverages is not something I can relate to, but it does make me happy knowing the two have yet another thing to bond over.)

"Hey, Sana unnie?" I speak, momentarily breaking the comfortable silence between us as I look at her reflection on the vanity mirror in front of me.

"Hmm?"

"Is it okay to have feelings for someone you know nothing about?"

I feel Sana's hand on the hairbrush stiffen for a second as she thinks my question over.

"I don't think there's anything wrong with it," she answers thoughtfully.

"Isn't it strange though?" I persist. "How would you know why you like that person if you don't know them enough?"

"Well, because you like someone, wouldn't you like to get to know that person better?" Sana says simply, like it's a universal truth. "Does knowing a person always have to come first?"

Deciding to deflect the question, not wanting to think of how it may or may not apply to my own situation with a certain girl, I ask instead, "Was it like that for you and Ah-tzi?"

As if knowing exactly what I was going to say, Sana's eyes shine with what looks like pure affection. "Hmm, now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure I've liked Nayeon unnie since the first time I saw her in class," she admits shyly but honestly, never a fan of being vague when it comes to how she feels.

I can't help the smile on my face at her sincerity. "I know you've already been doing this, Sana unnie, but... Take care of her for me, okay?"

"Always," the older girl says earnestly. "Now come on," she pulls me by the arms, satisfied with how my hair looks by now, "you're gonna be late for your date!"

"I already told you, unnie, it's not a date," I reply with a groan as I let her drag me to the door of the apartment. "I'm just hanging out with my classmate."

"Whatever you say, Tzuyu-ah!" Sana answers in a tone that doesn't sound like she believes me in the least. "Give us all the details when you get back, okay?" she adds, and gives me a slight push before effectively shutting the door behind me.

I shake my head in amusement and make my way to where Dahyun had texted me to meet her.

\-----

_ An arcade? _ I wonder, walking into the part of the mall I'd been given directions to, my ears immediately being blasted by what sounds like screeching noises of several games playing all at the same time.

Sure enough, I spot Dahyun sitting down in one area, furiously pressing on the buttons of a machine in front of her that's playing Tekken 7, according to the label on top of it. It looks like she's playing against a boy who's much younger, tapping on the buttons opposite the girl just as rapidly. 

I don't want to mess with Dahyun's concentration—because I shudder to think of the death glare Mina shoots at Momo, Sana or Nayeon whenever I see any of them interrupting her games, and don't want to risk it with Dahyun in case she gives me a similar reaction—so I take this time to watch how their game turns out instead.

Or at least, that would have been the case if not for my eyes always drifting towards the girl's face, trying to be familiar with the way one corner of her lips twitches whenever her game character receives a particularly nasty hit; or the way her entire face scrunches up, starting from her nose, whenever the character falls to the ground. 

I notice Dahyun start to relax towards the end of the round, however, her actions becoming just a bit less intense as opposed to earlier. She appears to have seen me from the corner of her eye, as she lets out a quick, "Hi, Tzuyu-ah! Let me just finish this", releasing a little whine as her character finally dies after being dealt a finishing move by her enemy on the left side of the screen.

She turns to the boy beside her, who has his hands up in the air, celebrating his victory. "Good job, Woobin-ssi!" She stands and gives him a pat on the head, grinning down at him. "Come back and I'll beat you next time for sure!"

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Dahyun says when she leaves the game and reaches me. "And thanks for meeting me here, Tzuyu-ah."

"It's okay. I had fun watching you play, Dahyun... unnie," I finish reluctantly, still not quite used to associating her with the last word. "You let that boy win on purpose, though. Didn't you?"

She puts a hand over her chest, pretending to be offended. "I don't know what you're talking about," she defends herself, but the sly glint in her eyes tells me otherwise. "The kid was just too good, that's all. Anyway, don't think I'm gonna go easy on you today," she declares, and with that, she pulls me deeper into the arcade, introducing me to all the games she frequently plays.

I find myself excelling in the more physical games like air hockey and whack-a-mole (Dahyun doesn't stand a chance against me when it comes to the basketball games with the moving hoops, and the miserable pout that she wears throughout the entire thing tells me she knows it.), and soon enough, we've both gathered more than an armful of tickets to exchange for prizes.

Her gaze lingers on one particular stuffed toy in the middle of the prizes section, a large white square-shaped thing with sideways v's for eyes, two little vertical lines for cheeks on both ends, and a wide curved line at the bottom for lips.

I immediately point to it when I hand my tickets, now neatly folded, to the receptionist.

"It looks like you," is all I say in explanation later, when Dahyun looks at me in surprise as I hold out the toy to her. "So you should take it."

"I'll call him Dubu," she says brightly, hugging the white cube as we walk out of the arcade. "Thank you, Tzuyu-ah."

I let out a relieved sigh, happy to no longer be exposed to all the blinking lights and sharp sounds surrounding the area. It seems we both have things running through our minds, as we fall into a silence that's deep but not uncomfortable, a pleasant tingle running through my veins whenever the tip of Dahyun's elbow would brush my arm.

It isn't until we enter a bus and sit beside each other that one of us speaks again.

"I used to hang out at that arcade a lot last year," Dahyun says. "I didn't have much spare change, so I'd pass the time watching other people play. Then when the mall closed for the night, that would be my cue to leave for work." 

"Why did you have to work at night, though?" I ask, my curiosity temporarily overpowering my usual inclination to be indifferent to most things.

"I had to take care of my father during the day," she answers, looking out the window, a memory no doubt playing in her head right then. "He had a brain tumor and we didn't have the money for a surgery, so my mother, my older brother and I took turns working. They both had day jobs, so..." 

I pick up on how she refers to her father in past tense, and although my hand itches to hold hers that are folded on her lap, I'm too nervous to actually do it. "I'm sorry, Dahyun unnie."

"That's okay," she says, a little dismissively. "We all kind of already knew we wouldn't be able to get him operated in time, no matter how hard we tried."

Right then, I feel a pang of disappointment in myself for not knowing enough Korean words to provide some sort of comfort to the other girl. 

Dahyun seems to notice my conflicted expression and lets out a little laugh. "Sorry for being so serious all of a sudden. I hope you had fun today, Tzuyu-ah."

"I did. I'm... I'm glad we were able to hang out outside school. And," I look away, suddenly self-conscious, "not just when things stop moving."

"Hey, do you want to come over to my house?" Dahyun suddenly offers. "Dubu is getting heavy, and I might need help carrying him."

It's a lie that's as clear as day, and she knows that I know it, but I nod, going along with her anyway.

It's a relatively short walk from the bus stop to Dahyun's house. She opens the door and doesn't seem surprised that no one is home. 

"Omma and Myungsoo oppa both work on Saturdays," she explains, taking her sandals off in the foyer. I follow suit, lining my sneakers up as neatly as I can in the designated spot.

I trail behind her as we move deeper into the house, which has pretty much the same typical set up as my home in Taiwan except for the obvious lack of objects such as a TV or a sound bar. If anything, having less made the space look tidier and more welcoming, as if encouraging its occupants to sit down and actually talk. 

We go up a set of stairs and into her room, which is at the end of a short hallway. 

"Make yourself comfortable. I'll go and cook some ramyun," Dahyun tells me, watching as I take in my surroundings—a slightly raised bed on one corner of the room, a small study desk and chair on the other, and a mix of books both fiction and nonfiction lining the small, open shelf which looks to be as tall as the bed beside it. 

"Make sure not to look under the bed, okay?" she says warningly, not waiting for an answer before she leaves. 

I settle on the only chair in the room, taking out my phone and seeing the messages I just realize I've ignored for the past few hours I've been out.

_ Hey, Tzuyu!  _ I read a message from Momo.  _ Satang texted me and said you have a date. You better introduce her to us okay???  😏😏😏 _

I can't help but do a literal facepalm. Of course Sana would tell Momo. Mina probably knows now, too.

_ I already told Sana unnie it's not a date, _ I type quickly before proceeding to the next notification.

 _ Are you coming home for dinner?  _ Nayeon's text reads.  _ Have some good news, can't wait to tell you later!  💙 _

I leave her message on read, choosing to curb my enthusiasm for when I hear the actual "good news", which I pray to the gods is Nayeon and Sana finally confessing to each other, because I'm pretty sure the entire universe and I have borne witness to how long they've been stuck in together-but-not-together-land.

Hearing Dahyun's voice suddenly cuts my musings short. "Oh, Tzuyu-ah, I left my phone in here." She strides towards the bed and reaches for her phone, then pauses and looks at me, eyebrows raised.

"Um, what is it, unnie?"

She regards me with suspicion, and I'm not quite sure if she's doing it as a joke or if she's actually serious. 

"You didn't look under the bed, did you?"

I shake my head. I'd forgotten she even mentioned it earlier. "I might actually have to go soon, Dahyun unnie. My roommate and I are having dinner together."

She hums in acknowledgment. "Okay, I'll be back when the ramyun is done. There's nothing to look at under the bed, so you better not."

_ Why does she keep saying not to look?  _ I ask myself. Doesn't she know that the worst way to keep someone from doing something is telling that someone  not  to do it?

It's obvious that Dahyun is trying to lure me into whatever it is she's been asking me not to look at, and the little rational voice inside me says I really should act with better judgment, but as always when it comes to Kim Dahyun, my desire to know more about her always seems to influence my decisions these days.

I lower myself on my knees so I'm eye-level with the underside of Dahyun's bed, and there is a lone object sitting in the middle: a small, rectangular box made of aluminum.

After looking briefly over my shoulder, and hearing the faint whistle of a boiling pot from downstairs, I direct my attention back to the box, which is now perched on my lap.

Nothing could prepare me for what I see inside.

In the box are a stack of white cards with the names of people in our class, as well as others from outside of it, teachers included. The cards look harmless at first glance, each person's name neatly written at the top of each card. But then I read what's underneath, each card bearing hand-written descriptions of whoever it's for; including likes, dislikes, strengths and weaknesses.

It only gets worse when I flip the cards over.

It contains what I can only call a cheat sheet on how to get that person to like you, down to the last detail.

I chew on my lip, my palms starting to sweat as I read through the first few cards. Does Dahyun really take note of all this just to make sure she keeps herself on the good side of every single person she meets?

Just then, I stumble on a familiar name. Jung Seunghyun, our Korean history teacher. I immediately read the back of the card.

_ Most likely knows about your job at the club, so he thinks he can get away with touching you inappropriately in class. Will stop after a while if you just smile and ignore it. In case he tries anything more, use blackmail material. _

I think back to the day I saw Dahyun slap Mr. Jung, and looking like she'd shed a few tears afterwards. Could this be the reason she did it? 

And what in the world does she even mean by "blackmail material"?

It then occurs to me that if she has cards for almost everyone in our school, she must have one that has my name on it, too. I purse my lips anxiously, stuck between wanting and dreading to read what information she could possibly have on me.

As if hearing my thoughts at this very moment, Dahyun coolly says, "You might want to read yours," standing over me with an unreadable expression on her face.

My heart sinks to my stomach when I finally find my name towards the far end of her stack of cards.

_ Chou Tzuyu _

_ Hometown is in Tainan district, Taiwan. Is almost fluent in basic conversational Korean but will quicklyget tired keeping up if you talk too fast. Likes bread and dogs a lot. Doesn't like when people talk to her only when they want something.  _

_ Will not make conversation when you're around other people, so make sure you're alone whenever you approach her. Ask her questions. Don't interrupt her while she's forming her thoughts. Give her your full attention. She'll pretty much do anything you want once you get her to trust you. _

There are a multitude of emotions swirling inside me right then, but I sit there, speechless, unable to process any of them.

"Is this—Is this all the information you've gathered about me?" I quietly say, unable to mask the resentment in my tone.

Dahyun merely shrugs. "It's all the information that matters."

"Why is it so important for everyone to like you?" I demand, shooting up and letting the box fly out of my lap, expecting the contents to come spilling out. 

Except fate has to choose this time to play its dirty tricks, and the box, along with the cards, stop falling a few inches from the floor; and just like that, the familiar static silence that comes with the world freezing engulfs us both in a bubble that, days ago, I had so desired to be in, but now want nothing to do with.

"You—You know it's not gonna stop people from spreading rumors about you."

"I don't care, Tzuyu. As long as everyone is nice to me to my face, it doesn't matter what they say behind my back."

"You're lying," I argue, feeling my chest tighten at the coldness of her words. "You can't possibly not care—"

"But I really don't," she cuts me off, looking at me with seemingly dark, dead eyes. She stoops down and picks up one of the suspended cards. "Here, this is mine."

I don't even have to take the card that has Kim Dahyun's name on it to see what it says.

Because, other than her name at the top, the card is completely blank at both the front and back.

I look up to meet her eyes, incredulous. Right then, I find myself starting to wish this is all just a horrible dream.

"It's blank because I don't have a personality of my own," Dahyun says offhandedly. "All I do is blend in with the personality of whoever I'm talking to. Like what they like, hate what they hate."

"So... Out of all the things you talked to me about before, which ones are true and which ones did you just make up to 'blend in'?"

"I'm not sure, actually."

My knuckles are probably white from the way I've been keeping them clenched right then, and all I can manage to say is, "I'm going to go," before I move to walk past Dahyun, whose hand darts out towards my arm to stop me.

"Wait." 

_ What else could she possibly have to say after all that? _ my mind says angrily, but before I can say this out loud, I feel her tug me downward, our lips meeting each other none too gently.

I close my eyes and thread my hands through her hair, momentarily forgetting everything except the softness of her mouth and how kissing her like this sends electric sparks coursing through my spine. She steps forward, leading me to her bed while her lips stay on mine.

I feel the back of my legs hit the side of the bed, and this is what snaps me out of my infatuated state and makes me push Dahyun away, the sweetness of her lips suddenly leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. "Stop it! Why are you doing this?"

Her brows furrow, giving me a puzzled look. "Isn't this what you wanted, Tzuyu-ah?"

"No!" I snap, indignant. "No. Not like this."

"You kissed me first, on that day," Dahyun reminds me. "What am I supposed to think?"

"Don't. You don't get to kiss someone just because you think she wants you to," I say in an even voice that somehow doesn't give my overwhelmed emotions away. "Maybe before today I did have feelings for you, Dahyun, and I wanted to know more about you, but what am I supposed to do now, when you're saying there's nothing about you worth knowing?"

I don't stick around to find out if she responds or not, because I push past her and make my way out of the house just as my vision starts to blur with tears. 

The overcast sky makes the early evening look like midnight, and as if what I'd already gone through earlier isn't enough, I now have to live a cliché moment of getting soaked through my clothes just as I am walking home. 

_ This would've been a good time to have the world stop, wouldn't it? _ I think derisively, trying hard to ignore the tightness in my chest that has never left since I'd seen those stupid white cards.

The water keeps getting in my eyes (Maybe I want to think it's just the rain and not actual tears.), and I have to keep rubbing at my face as I continue braving the torrential roar of rapidly falling rainwater.

I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket, but I ignore it and go through the motions of putting one foot in front of the other, trying to think of nothing else but getting home.

Home...

And as if fate has taken pity on me, the next time I look up, I find myself in front of my apartment door. I fumble in my bag for my keys, and with a slightly shaking hand, push the object into the lock and twist the doorknob.

Nayeon, who is on the couch, immediately rushes to my side and fusses over me. "Tzuyu-ah! You're all wet! What happened? Why didn't you answer my call? I could've picked you up—"

"Ah-tzi," I whimper, my lower lip trembling. Rainwater continues trickling down my face, and Nayeon looks at me with more worry than I'd ever seen on her. "Ah-tzi, it—it _hurts_."

"What hurts?" she asks gently, reaching towards my cheeks and wiping what water she can with her fingers. 

Slowly, I put a hand over the left side of my chest and give a little tug on my shirt. "Here. It hurts so much."

"Oh, Mei Mei," Nayeon says sadly, taking me into her arms just as everything that happened earlier sinks in fully and I finally, finally feel safe enough to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know any and all thoughts you have about this chapter! Hoping against hope I update the last chapter before the end of the year.


	3. Interlude: Oh, it's Dahyun-ssi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What goes on in the mind of one Kim Dahyun? And how in the world does Im Nayeon know everyone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Sorry this took so long" is really all I can say here. That, and I might not have proofread much towards the end. Ehe, my apologies.

You’ve long since known that you’re no stranger to getting left behind.

You’d had to watch your family dog get taken away about four years ago, when your father started to get sick and had to divert his funds to buying maintenance medicine instead of dog food.

(Thankfully, one of your neighbors, the Yoo family, were kind enough to adopt Ahri, and would even invite you to visit their home from time to time; an opportunity you all too eagerly took. This was how you met Yoo Jeongyeon and her childhood friend.)

A couple of years ago, your friends from the high school you attended drifted away from you one by one as you started spending almost all your free hours working part-time, to help shoulder the burdens of your mother, your older brother, and your then-bedridden father, whose health seemed to keep worsening each day.

Two years ago, on the third of September, the person who you’d considered the closest thing to being your first love disappeared from your life, leaving behind a hastily scrawled note and a prominent scar in your heart.

One year and six months ago, your father closed his eyes for the last time, refusing to fight death’s clutches any longer, and ultimately (unfairly, you sometimes think) deciding his family should stop fighting for him, too. 

A few minutes ago, you looked on as Chou Tzuyu made her way out the door of your bedroom, and you thought you’d be used to it by then, but as the world’s gears decided to turn again seven minutes later, you stood among the small white cards that lay strewn across the floor, a painful hollowness bearing down your chest.

You know you are no stranger to being left behind, but it turns out it still stings whenever it happens, each a little more sharply than the last.

You wish you could do more than just watch, and you hate yourself for doing nothing but that, every single time.

You kneel on the floor, still very much wrapped in your thoughts as your fingers hover on the fallen cards. Your gaze lingers a little too long on the one with Tzuyu’s name, a mix of confusion and unease pooling inside of you.

You honestly had no idea what possessed you to show her those cards. You’d had a good day with her, it was very much obvious that she had taken a liking to you, and everything was going well. You’d more than accomplished your mission of gaining the trust of yet another person in your class.

And yet, you pushed her away by telling her who you really are—or rather, who you really aren’t. You felt the need to let her see how much of a fraud you are. Maybe you wanted at least one person to know the truth. Maybe you wanted it to be her.

Maybe you hoped that, even then, she would stay. But that was wishful thinking. Of course Tzuyu would leave. She left the way your father did, the way your friends did. 

The way _she_ did…

As if knowing the exact direction your mind was going, the first of the white cards you’d ever written on appeared at the corner of your eye, among the mess on the floor. It was a little yellowed and creased at the edges from having been taken out of the box so much in the last couple of years, but the name on the card was still as clear as ever.

“Im Nayeon.”

\-----

“H-Hello,” you remember your fourteen year old self greeting a pair of teenagers who didn't look much older than you were, bowing a little more stiffly than you should have. “I'm here to see Ahri, if that's okay.”

The first girl you’d seen once or twice whenever you stopped by the Yoos’ bakery and happened to catch her helping out. Her hair color was drastically different both times, but the smears of powdered dough on one cheek and the slightly cheeky smile on her face as she carried trays of freshly-baked bread from the back room were a constant.

You saw the very same grin then as the girl, Yoo Jeongyeon, hopped off the edge of a low sofa; where earlier, she’d laid with her legs dangling off the side, her head on the lap of the second girl. “Dahyun-ah! It’s been a while. Come on, I’ll show you where Ahri is.”

“Thanks, Jeongyeon unnie,” you answered politely. Out of courtesy, you bowed to the other girl, who hadn’t moved from her seat. “Hi, my name is Kim Dahyun.”

For a whole second that seemed to stretch a lot longer, she stared at you with a narrowed gaze, looking as though she was scrutinizing your entire being rather than just your physical features. You never failed to remember, even years later, the way it made your insides twist into the most uncomfortable knots, even if you had yet to understand why.

Your tension should have disappeared the moment her lips broke into a wide, toothy smile that made her two front teeth stand out in a way you’d later on find adorable. You should have been able to return it with a smile of your own and feel at ease knowing she at least didn’t dislike you the moment she saw you.

Instead, you found yourself barely registering as she introduced herself (“I’m Im Nayeon. It’s nice to meet you, Dahyun!”), your throat suddenly drying up and your thoughts scattering. There were entire wells of emotions you couldn’t identify that started to bubble up inside of you, and even as early as then, you thought that Nayeon’s smile might be one of the most dangerous things she could use against you if she ever wanted to.

The first few times you visited, about a month after it was adopted, you mostly kept to yourself and Ahri whenever the older girls were around. Pretty soon, however, both Jeongyeon and Nayeon became particularly insistent that you join them to play with Jeongyeon’s cat, Bomb, and Nayeon’s little Pomeranian, Kookeu. 

It didn’t take long for you to get used to their usual banter, and you’d steadily become better at maneuvering around them whenever they argued and asked you to pick a side. 

(Truth be told, you always had to stop yourself from siding with Nayeon every single time. Especially when she used that _damned_ smile on you, seemingly having no idea how it would make your brain short-circuit and your heart forcefully hammer against your ribcage, threatening to spill out the yet-to-be-identified feelings you insistently refused to put a name to.)

“Come on, Jeong, what’s wrong with telling the truth?” you heard Nayeon whine the moment you entered the Yoos’ living room one weekend.

“It’s not wrong, unnie, it’s just... It could get you into trouble if people hear you say things like that. They might think you’re being overconfident.”

“It’s not being overconfident if it’s true!” she retorted. As soon as she saw you, she dragged you by the elbow and said, “Tell her, Dahyun-ah!”, probably hoping you would simply agree without even asking. 

Of course, you knew better than to mindlessly go along with anything, even if it was for Nayeon. Even if part of your arm was still warm and tingling from where her fingers had wrapped around it. “Um, what are you two even talking about?”

Jeongyeon let out an exhausted sigh that you’d heard all too often from all the times she’d had to put up with the minor inconveniences that always seemed to follow her best friend like a magnet. “Nayeon unnie was voted class representative today, but she refused the position because she said she was too pretty for it.” 

You couldn’t hold back an amused snort. “That does sound like Nayeon unnie, alright.”

“You’d think that was enough, but no,” Jeongyeon continued, rolling her eyes. “She also said, in front of her entire class, that being a class officer of any kind made you too busy to pay attention to your looks. The rumors say their class president was this close,” she gestured with her index finger above and her thumb below, leaving an almost nonexistent space between them, “to strangling her on the spot.” 

“So she basically said being a class officer makes you ugly?” you asked, giving Ahri light scratches behind the ears the way you knew it always liked.

And just like that, you saw _that_ smile yet again (with the erratic beating of your heart following suit like it always did). This time, it was one of triumph mixed with pride. “See, she gets it!”

Jeongyeon covered her face with her palm in mock exasperation. “Please don’t encourage this ahjumma, Dahyun-ah.”

“Yah! Who’re you calling ahjumma, Yoo Jeongyeon?!”

You couldn’t see Ahri, Nayeon and Jeongyeon as much during the summer, as you’d started a part-time job at a small convenience store a few blocks from your middle school. On your days off, though, when you were able to go to Jeongyeon’s house, it would be just the two of you, as Nayeon’s parents would take her abroad and she wouldn’t return until the weekend before classes started again.

You found that being around Jeongyeon alone was much easier and much less dangerous to your emotional health. Although she had a penchant for pulling little pranks on you whenever she was bored (which was all the time, it seemed), you never had to worry about your cheeks heating up whenever the tips of her fingers so much as brushed against yours, and you never had to spend nights after your shifts at the store staring up at your bedroom ceiling, replaying the memories of her annoyingly loud laughs and the way she looked at you as if she had you all figured out.

 _I don’t like her_ that _way,_ you’d reason with yourself whenever your mind drifted to Nayeon yet again. _I_ don’t _like girls_ that way _._

_Do I?_

You decided that, between juggling your part-time job, your studies, looking after your father at the hospital, and spending weekends with Ahri, you didn’t have time to begin a long and difficult road to self-discovery that you simply weren't ready for. And so, you let your unidentified feelings towards Nayeon stay that way as months—and then, before you knew it, a year—flew by. Surely, just being in the same space as her and mentally preparing yourself for the little flutters in your chest from time to time whenever you were together was enough.

But then, one day, it wasn’t.

“Hey, Dahyun, you’re in your last year of middle school, right?” Jeongyeon asked out of the blue, a haphazard pile of papers, textbooks and notebooks covering her entire living room table when you entered her house a handful of weekends after summer vacation ended. 

You nodded, leaning down and scooping an approaching Ahri up into your arms as soon as it noticed your presence. “Yup, why do you ask?”

“Which subject do you like best?”

“I think I’m pretty good with numbers, so I guess anything with math?”

The other girl, whose hair was now a little longer than before, stopping just short of her shoulders, the color this time a toffee-like brown, scrunched up her nose, obviously not sharing your interest in the subject. “Oh. Well, if I could give you one piece of advice for when you start high school, it’s ‘Don’t put your homework off until the last minute’.”

“Isn’t that what you and Nayeon unnie have been doing, though?” you said teasingly, fishing out a little bag of Ahri’s favorite dog treats from your pocket. “I’ve never seen you guys do anything school-related until now.”

Nayeon groaned from her spot on the floor right in front of the untidy table, rubbing her eyes tiredly. “If you must know, I’m always on time with my homework. My brain is just fried right now because of all the studying I’ve been doing over the summer.”

“That’s what you say _every_ year, Nayeon unnie,” Jeongyeon answered. “What do you even study when you’re on vacation with your parents?”

“How to cast curses on my enemies in another language,” Nayeon said dryly. Noticing a lack of response from both you and Jeongyeon, who stared at her incredulously, her poker face gave way to a snicker. “I’m kidding. Don’t tell me you forgot, Jeong? I’m pretty sure I told you before. I’ve been studying Mandarin.”

“Why? So you can talk with the Yakuza and use their services to silence whoever pisses you off?” Jeongyeon joked.

“Maybe,” was all Nayeon answered, with a wiggle of the eyebrows, before turning back to her forgotten homework, her lips tightening into a thin line as she started to focus. As an afterthought, she muttered, “But the Yakuza is Japanese, pabo,” which earned a little kick on her arm from Jeongyeon.

“If you’re so good at it, why don’t you teach us a few words, unnie?”

You found yourself nodding eagerly, having always been fascinated with foreign languages. (Your playlist that was chock full of Japanese, English, as well as Korean hip hop songs with English rap lyrics were a testament to that.) You swore the possibility that it could be Nayeon who would open you up to yet another language was just a little bonus. 

Unable to resist the attention, the older girl gave up on her notes and faced you with a thoughtful expression. That stare again… How could your heart still thump so wildly in your chest exactly like the first time she’d looked at you like that?

“Well, I’m not sure what your names are in Mandarin yet, I’ll have to ask my tutor next time.” She tilted her chin and stared upwards, as though she’d be able to find the words hovering above her head. “But anyway, I’m gonna start with ‘Dahyun, you’re the best’.”

You regarded her expectantly, and you noticed that even Jeongyeon was starting to be more interested too, judging by the way she pulled her legs towards her chest and laid her chin on her knees.

“Dahyun, ni shi zui bang de,” Nayeon spoke with a warm look in her eyes, her accent noticeably slowing down and becoming more stilted, as opposed to the confident, low-pitched but obnoxiously loud one that her Korean always came with. 

Even so, you could practically hear the hard work and sincerity she’d put in on pronouncing each word as accurately as she could, and you found yourself falling into those unknown feelings a little bit more—which was always the case whenever you learned something new about Im Nayeon.

“How about me? Say something about me!” Jeongyeon urged, sliding down the sofa and nudging Nayeon’s side as she took a spot beside her.

“Okay, okay, just stop that,” Nayeon breathed out with a laugh, trying to block her arm from Jeongyeon’s sharp elbow. “Jeongyeon?”

The short-haired girl immediately sat at attention and leaned closer, excited to hear what Nayeon’s next words would be. “Yes?”

You looked at the two girls in front of you, and while you’d had no doubt as to how strong their bond was from all the years they’d known each other, it was in the next moment when it occurred to you that there might not have been enough room in it for Kim Dahyun.

“Wo ai ni.”

Jeongyeon looked back at her, confused for not understanding the words, but seemingly flustered for a whole different reason both you and she had yet to know. “Wh-What does that mean?”

“It means, you’re a turd.” She lightly shoved Jeongyeon’s shoulder, but before a pout could appear on the other girl’s lips, she muttered shyly and looked away, “It means ‘I love you’, you pabo.”

Jeongyeon looked stunned, and the seconds dragged on, as if waiting with you for some sort of reaction. When she finally snapped out of whatever trance she’d been under, she tried drawing attention away from her reddening cheeks by giving Nayeon a slightly harder push in return. 

“Eww, stop being cheesy, Nayeon unnie!”

As both of them argued yet again about something you could no longer be bothered to pay attention to, trapped inside a bubble of their own while you stayed stuck on the outside looking in, you came to the realization that, while you’d been falling and falling for Nayeon, she may have very well been going through the exact same thing all this time (maybe even for much longer, if you wanted to take a guess). Just for a different person who was all too clearly not you.

With those three foreign words, and the way she stared at Jeongyeon in the same manner that you’ve always done to her, you found yourself crashing and burning headfirst into a tangled thornbush full of feelings that you could no longer pretend didn’t exist.

\-----

The shrill ringing of your phone makes your thoughts evaporate, dragging you right back to the present, where you stay sitting on your bedroom floor, Im Nayeon’s card still on your lap.

Her name doesn’t quite disappear from your mind even as you read the one displayed on your phone’s caller ID, but your chest does tighten for a second when you see Chou Tzuyu’s name instead. You make a split-second decision to take back everything you’d told her earlier tonight. How, you didn’t quite know yet, but you’d always been good at creating a believable alibi or two under pressure.

You take your phone, a slew of apologies already at the tip of your tongue when you tap the answer button. “Hello? Tzuyu-ah? Listen, I’m sorry about what I said—”

To your shock, it’s a different but all too familiar, lower-pitched voice that answers instead of Tzuyu’s soft one. A voice you haven’t heard in the last two years.

“Dahyun? Is this... Kim Dahyun?”

Your mouth goes dry, and the hand holding your phone starts to sweat. “How—How do you have Tzuyu’s phone?” 

The few silent seconds of hesitation are deafening, because all you hear while you wait is the blood pounding in your ears.

“I’m Tzuyu’s roommate. She came home soaked from the rain and… Well, you just happen to be the first person in her message list that's not me or Sa—” she stops short, clearing her throat nervously. “Um, it's—it's been a while, hasn't it, Dahyun-ah?”

You’re not sure how long you can keep yourself together as you listen to the voice that had been, years ago, so much a part of you until it wasn’t, so right then, unable to conceal the pain in your tone, you blurt out the only question you can think of. 

“What do you want from me... Nayeon unnie?”

\-----

You go through the next Monday in a daze, your mind still replaying the rest of your phone call with Nayeon as if you haven’t already been thinking about it since Saturday night.

_“Dahyun, I… I want to apologize to you properly… Can I see you?”_

_“There's really nothing to apologize for, unnie.”_

_“You know that's not true. Please—”_

_“I’ll think about it. Don’t_ — _Don’t call me again.”_

“So she really just let Jung-seongsaengnim touch her shoulders like _that_ again today?” a girlish voice you know that belongs to one of the students in a different class breaks through your thoughts, not bothering to hide the tinge of disgust in her tone.

You blink, realizing right then where you are: inside a cubicle in the girl’s bathroom, where you’d been sitting over the toilet seat, staring listlessly towards the closed door in front of you. As you pull yourself back to the present, you overhear a conversation and have a feeling you know exactly who its subject is going to be.

“Yeah,” someone else replied. “It’s not surprising though, Kim Dahyun just lets everyone do what they want with her.”

“I heard she stopped school for a year to be a—a _sex worker_ ,” the last two words were said in a whisper that wasn’t exactly as discreet as the voice’s owner had probably hoped. “Is it true, Jiwoo-yah? That news is all over the school!”

You hear Jiwoo scoff. “Of course it’s true,Younghee-ah. I was the one who found out about it, after all. The only reason she’s even back in school is because she has a regular client who’s been paying for everything.”

“And is that client…”

“Yup, it’s Jung-seongsaengnim!” Jiwoo declared, as if stumbling upon a groundbreaking scientific breakthrough. You can’t help but roll your eyes at the absurdity.

You’ve known about almost every type of rumor your classmates and the other students have been spreading about you, and on a normal day, you would be unbothered by it all. It’s not like they could prove any of it, anyway.

But today, it’s as though something snaps inside of you—not unlike the time you found Mr. Jung at a vulnerable moment, when the world had stopped because of Tzuyu—and suddenly, you feel the urge to make these two gossipers squirm, at the very least.

So you fling the cubicle door open, making sure to make as much noise as possible. You plaster one of your carefully-practiced smiles, approaching the two girls who are standing, shocked, in front of the sink. “Oh, hi Jiwoo-yah! And Younghee-ah, too! Did you just get here? I didn’t notice you.”

“U-Uh, y-yes, we t-totally just got here, Dahyun unnie!”

“H-Hello, Dahyun unnie. I’m sorry to be rude, but I have to get to class now. I’ll see you later, Jiwoo-yah!” 

“Yah! W-Wait for me!”

You let out a sharp exhale, steadying yourself on the sink with trembling hands as soon as both girls make a run for the halls. You chew on the inside of your cheek, cursing your weakness of getting teary-eyed whenever you have trouble containing your anger.

Before the first tear could fall, however, you see a clean, white handkerchief being handed to you from the corner of your eye.

“T-Tzuyu-ah, what… How l-long have you been there—”

The taller girl gently takes your chin so you’re looking up at her, using her other hand to dab the cloth slightly below your lower lashes. Even with all the time you’d taken to study her expressions, this one she has right then you can't read at all. 

“It must be hard to keep pretending you don’t care what people say about you,” she says quietly, her fingers ghosting over the skin of your cheekbones. “I… I know it is for me.”

“Tzu—”

She cuts you off by taking your hand and laying the used handkerchief on it. “Here, keep it. And,” Tzuyu takes out a single pack of choco pie from her jacket pocket (your eyes light up at the sight of it despite the situation) and places it over the cloth. “This one, too.”

You want to ask how she can still be this good to you even after everything you'd said and done the last time you saw each other, but your tongue is glued to the roof of your mouth, your face flushing, flaming hot in all the places Tzuyu’s fingers had made contact with.

You look on as she pulls back, and after a moment of hesitation, she says, “I wish you’d fight back sometimes, when someone talks badly about you, Dahyun unnie,” and before you can think of an answer, she walks past you, leaving you alone in the bathroom, your palm still laying open.

You clutch the choco pie in your hand and place it close to your chest, as though you could do the same to the words Tzuyu had just left you with. 

The words wash over you, and as if those were a trigger of some sort that you’d unconsciously been waiting for, something in your mind clicks into place; and you think that today is going to be the day. The day you _do_ fight back.

Your strides are charged with purpose as you enter your next class before it starts, heading towards your bag and pulling out a worn, beat-up looking phone, careful to wrap Tzuyu’s handkerchief around it while you power it up.

Then, you sit and wait with your hands folded over your desk, ready to make your move as soon as the world freezes. You try hard not to be distracted by the feel of Tzuyu’s gaze on the back of your head as she regards you cautiously, seeming to notice the drastic difference in your mood compared to before.

You shoot up and bolt towards the classroom beside yours as soon as you notice the motionlessness of your environment blanketing everyone but you and Tzuyu, tuning out her voice as she calls after you. When you enter the next room, your gaze immediately falls on Younghee’s desk, and you make your way towards her, taking her phone out of her hand. 

You barely hear Tzuyu’s hurried footsteps as she follows you inside. “What are you doing?”

Pressed for time, you don’t respond, your fingers deftly scrolling through the old phone still covered in white cloth. You find the video clip you’re looking for and enter Younghee’s number.

“Dahyun unnie,” Tzuyu says sharply, and by reflex, you shake off the hand she’d laid on your shoulder. 

Still not giving an explanation for your actions, you proceed to unlock Younghee’s phone, taking the girl’s unmoving hand and laying her finger on the fingerprint scanner. Then, you open the student council group chat where all the high school students and teachers are required to be a member of, retrieve the file you’d sent, and tap the send button without batting an eye. Finally, you wipe down both the old phone and Younghee’s phone with the handkerchief, and put the latter back in her hand, while you drop the former inside her (conveniently) open bag.

The video clip would be sent instantly, thanks to the fact that you'd held Younghee’s phone in your hand right when you sent it. (You took note of the time you'd first seen Tzuyu’s wristwatch still ticking once before, even when everything else stayed still.)

“What did you just do, Dahyun?” Tzuyu demands, her voice strained, your previous actions passing by her in such a blur that she’d been unable to make sense of any of it. 

You pull her by the hand and run back to your classroom. “Fighting back,” you answer curtly, dragging her along. With an unusual calmness, you let go and walk back to your seat once you reach the door. “Remember my ‘blackmail material’? You’ll see.”

Your poker face is perfect when the entire high schools’ phones, including yours, vibrate, receiving the message you’d sent from Younghee’s phone. Like most of the students sitting idly, you take your phone out and watch the video you yourself had taken, and have already played back, so many times before.

Not even a minute later, the classroom buzzes with perplexed whispers as your classmates talk about the message on the student council group chat, which further intensifies when the names of two students are called over to the principal’s office via the school’s public address system.

“It’s a sex tape of Han Jiwoo and Jung-seongsaengnim!”

“Is it really Han Jiwoo?”

“The quality of the video is good enough, you can obviously tell it’s her!”

“How did Shin Younghee even get a hold of this?”

“Oh God, I hope they didn’t do it in _this_ room! Gross!”

“She’s been saying Dahyun unnie lets Jung-seongsaengnim touch her because they’ve had sex, but it’s obvious Jiwoo has been framing her all this time.” 

“What a bitch!”

The teachers would obviously have too much on their plate to hold classes because of all the commotion, and class is most likely the last thing on their minds right then, which means the students would be left to their own devices for at least a few hours. _Just as well,_ you think, your face relatively calm, but your hands cold and clammy, _I really need to get out of here right now._

You stand up, giving absentminded smiles, nods and “It’s okay”s at your classmates who mutter apologies for believing the rumors about you and Mr. Jung as you pass by them, and head towards the door. You feel a soft hand grab your arm, its owner striding past and pulling you firmly but gently outside, and shutting the door behind you.

“What was that just now, Dahyun unnie?” you hear Tzuyu question, and for the first time since you’ve met, you practically feel her silent anger seething in waves even before you turn to look at her. “What did you do?”

You shrug, feeling little to no remorse for the chaos you’ve just unleashed. “Han Jiwoo has been getting on my nerves. I wanted payback on both her and Jung-seongsaengnim. That’s all.”

“Okay, Jiwoo and Jung-seongsaengnim, I’ll try to understand,” the other girl answers, her jaw clenching, “but why are you letting Younghee take the fall for exposing them?”

“Collateral damage,” you find yourself saying coldly. Tzuyu stares at you incredulously, as though you’ve grown another head. “Besides, since she’s almost as much as a gossiper as Jiwoo, no one will doubt that she'd jump at the chance to stab her friend in the back just to get people talking.”

“You just really like studying people so you can use them,” she says with a scoff, crossing her arms and looking away. “Like you’ve used me, and this—this power. Right?”

You feel your chest tighten with pain yet again as you listen to the resentment her voice is laced with. And yet, the desire to lash out at everyone and everything, which you’ve kept dormant for months, starts bubbling up, uncontrollably, into words that may very well make things even worse.

“Who’s using who, though?” you say flatly, your tone frigid and steely. You look up at Tzuyu with a withering gaze. “You say it’s me, but haven’t you been doing the same thing? Asking me if all the rumors are true, asking about every little thing,” you shorten the distance between both of you, and she can’t help but take a step back, intimidated. “You’ve been using me to satisfy your curiosity. Haven’t you?”

The corners of Tzuyu’s lips twitch a little, the words seeming to get to her. “I—”

“So don’t act all high and mighty,” you lower your voice into little more than a whisper, your face now inches from her conflicted one, “when you were the first one to kiss me when you thought I couldn't move. _Because_ _you were_ _curious_.”

“D-Dahyun unnie,” Tzuyu stutters, looking very well on the verge of tears, yet still determined to meet your eyes, “That’s n-not why I—”

Both of you suddenly hear the sound of the door creaking open, and you’re quick to put some distance between you and Tzuyu, who still looks shaken.

“What’s going on?” Son Chaeyoung’s head pops out of the door’s side, before she steps out completely. “Uhh, is everything okay, Dahyun unnie? Tzuyu-ah?”

You take a short breath to compose yourself before turning to Chaeyoung with a reassuring grin. “Yup, we’re fine, Chaeyoung-ah!” you say, putting on your best cheerful voice. “Tzuyu is just concerned about me. She’s been a really good friend, even though we just got close. I keep telling her not to worry, but she still worries, anyway.”

The shorter girl’s eyes dart from me to Tzuyu and back again, as if trying to assess the situation herself. “Is this true, Tzuyu-ah?”

Tzuyu, her eyes on the floor, her long straight hair covering part of her face, sniffs once, before giving a stiff nod in response.

“I suddenly feel like skipping the rest of school, though.” You turn to Tzuyu in half-genuine, half-mock concern. “You’ll be okay with Chaeyoung-ah, right? Oh, and,” you add, “I heard Im Nayeon is your roommate.”

“Im Nayeon?” Chaeyoung echoes, just as Tzuyu looks up at you, recognizing the name instantly. “I know her too! She used to live with my neighbors.”

You tilt your head to the side, part of you wanting to know more, but you decide you’re too mentally exhausted to ask. Instead you say, “Really? Then can one of you send her a message for me?” You start taking steps down the hallway, both Tzuyu and Chaeyoung staring after you. 

“Tell her that if she wants to talk, she knows where to find me.”

\-----

You felt something shift between Nayeon and Jeongyeon ever since that day. 

You felt it, but you couldn’t bear to be around to see it: the lingering touches that lasted significantly longer than they used to, the perpetually red cheeks, the hushed whispers when they thought you were too busy petting Ahri to pay any attention, the sudden, awkward silence that always came whenever you arrived and found them in the middle of conversations they never seemed to want you to listen in on.

You were young, but you weren’t oblivious. Of course if Nayeon were to fall for someone, it would be her childhood best friend Jeongyeon. How could it ever be anyone else? How could it ever be _you_?

You were in the last few weeks of your freshman year in high school when your father fell into a coma and was transferred to intensive care. You didn’t need your mother or brother to tell you that the jump in medical fees and medication was becoming too much for them to handle; seeing the exhaustion and the lack of light in both pairs of eyes whenever you sat down for dinner told you enough.

That was how you’d decided to delay moving on to your sophomore year, choosing instead to spend what were supposed to be your school hours looking after your father, while the rest of your family was at work. The only problem left was getting a job in the night time.

“Dahyun-ah, you don’t have to quit school. Just let me and Myungsoo-yah look for the money,” your mother had pleaded, voice edged with weariness. 

Your brother nodded in agreement, arms crossed in front of his chest. “Getting a night job isn’t safe, Dahyun-ah.”

“But I want to help, Omma, Myungsoo oppa,” you had argued. “And don’t say you don’t need it, because you obviously do. I don’t want us to have to beg for support from other people.”

 _It’ll be a good distraction, too,_ a part of you thinks. 

In the end, your mother and brother relented, both their combined willpower still no match for yours. You promised you would let them know the name and address of whichever establishment you ended up getting into, although at the back of your mind, you wondered who, other than twenty-four hour convenience stores and gas stations (which, in your opinion, were great, but the income you’d get from those jobs would be loose change in comparison to the money you needed), would be crazy enough to hire a sixteen year old to work nights with them.

You spent two evenings in the summer wandering the streets of Itaewon, and were on the verge of going home to try again the next night, when you saw a tall, middle-aged looking man wearing a sleeveless, black top and something that you could only dub in your mind as plastic pants, leaning over to talk to what looked like a club bouncer (the muscular arms and chest were dead giveaways). An impulse of some sort pushed you to make a run for the entrance of the club just as the bouncer stepped away from it to let the man inside.

“Yah! Kid! Where do you think you’re going?” the guard shouted, unable to get a hold of you as you slipped by him. 

You stopped running partway and took in your surroundings. You thought the place was not as shady as a stereotypical nightclub—or maybe that was because it was too early to open and be filled with a mass of bodies, the deafening bass of club music, the steadily blinking stream of multicolored lights, or the stink of alcohol mixed with sweat.

You looked back at the entrance just in time to see the tall man from earlier hold one hand up to stop the bouncer from chasing you out of the establishment. A burst of courage suddenly filled you enough to come up to him and ask, “Hey, ahjussi, are you the owner of this club?”

He taps a thumb and forefinger to his chin thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing until all you could see were two horizontal slits below his eyebrows. “I could be. What do you want?”

Without hesitation, you said, “I’m Kim Dahyun. Will you give me a job?”

“A job? Here?” He gawked at you, disbelief written all over his face. “Are you sure you know what you’re saying?”

“I do.”

“Well, Kim Dahyun-ssi,” he hesitates, “How old are you?”

“I’m sixteen,” you easily answer, not seeing any point in lying to him if you wanted to land this job.

“Aigoo, you're still a minor!” 

“Come on, ahjussi, I just—” you swallowed, your false bravado dissipating and giving way to borderline desperation, “I _really_ need this.”

You watched his expression soften slowly, mulling things over in his mind. “You’re not going to get out of here whether I ask nicely or not, are you?”

You immediately shook your head, determined, your gaze already turning watery.

He took a deep, exasperated breath. “Okay. I’m obviously not going to let you work as an escort or a dancer...” 

You internally let out a relieved sigh at his words, grateful you listened to the gut feeling that you could trust this ahjussi to an extent, with or without his less-than-conventional bottoms.

“I guess you can help out at the kitchen, for now. You can start tomorrow at eight.”

Your eyes widened, your lips parting in a bright grin. “Thank you, ahjussi!” you exclaimed, shaking his hand vigorously. “Thank you so much!”

“Yah, yah, yah, don't celebrate yet,” the club owner commented, smiling despite himself. “You'll be on a six-month probation just like any other new employee, so you better work hard, got it? Now get out of here.”

“And kid,” he continued, before walking away, “My name is Park Jinyoung, not ahjussi!”

“Whatever you say, ahjussi!”

Before long, the staff members started to dote on you as the maknae of the club: the sous chef would prepare a lunch box filled with customers’ untouched orders to bring with you to the hospital for breakfast after your shift; the dancers would give you quick lessons on skin, hair care and cosmetics; the escorts would let you try on (and sometimes even bring home) expensive accessories their clients had bought for them; the bouncer you’d first met would be quick to watch your back whenever you had to help the servers carry trays of food, puffing up his chest menacingly and moving you behind him whenever any male customers tried to get handsy with you. (One of the said handsy customers turned out to be Jung Seunghyun, who would later become your Korean history teacher.)

And Park Jinyoung, well, he cared for you in his own gruffly affectionate way, giving you occasional pats on the head and sending you off with monthly wages that you thought were significantly worth more than what he should have been able to give a part-timer, despite his vehement denial whenever you asked him about it.

You were so absorbed with your new job, keeping yourself on your toes and doing your best, getting wiped out with exhaustion when you watched over your father outside the intensive care unit, that you pretty much stopped paying attention to your phone, which meant leaving a lot of messages unopened and calls unanswered, mostly from both Jeongyeon and Nayeon, who asked how you were and let you know how Ahri was doing lately.

About six months into your job at the club, you found Jinyoung hunched over a tall stack of papers at the bar before opening time, his eyes disappearing behind his lids as he squinted at the words on the one he had in his hand, anxiety written all over his features.

“Hey, ahjussi, what’s that?” you asked, casually taking a seat beside him in front of the bar counter. 

The bartender, who was wiping glasses close by, answered for the club owner. “Our accountant just quit, so Jinyoung-ssi is having a _little_ trouble right now.” He gestured to the pile of paperwork. “Yup, just a _little_ trouble.”

Jinyoung looked up at both you and the bartender with eyes that looked drowsier than they usually were, if that was even possible. “This,” he pointed to said paperwork, “is all the work that yangachi left before he went AWOL. I have absolutely no idea where to start. The numbers make no sense at all, it’ll take weeks to find a replacement, and that’s me being optimistic.” He muffled a groan by burying his face into his hands.

“Numbers?” you echoed, your interest suddenly piqued. “Do you mind if I take a look at that, ahjussi?”

Jinyoung, not having nearly enough energy to question what you could possibly do to resolve his woes, slid the papers towards you without a word, eager to chug down the rum and coke that the bartender had placed in front of him before he left for the kitchen.

You took the liberty of grabbing a pen lying around on the counter and scribbled on the page, moving numbers around and balancing them. A whole three minutes later, you handed the paper to Jinyoung, who, once his unfocused eyes zeroed in on your calculations, stared at you, dumbfounded.

“This is the amount I’ve been trying to get to!” he blurted out. “For hours! Hours! How in the world did you do that in just a few minutes, kid?”

You shrugged, not thinking much of it. “Um, I just... really, really, like math?” 

It took a few more seconds for Jinyoung to figuratively pick his jaw up from the floor. When he finally did, he clapped his hands together, making a decision. “Okay, Dahyun-ah, you’re officially out of the kitchen and into the office while I interview for a new accountant. And before you ask,” he added excitedly, “Of course I’ll pay you more for this!”

You accepted the offer, of course, the prospect of getting more money for your father constantly on your mind. Nothing much changed, except that you spent a lot more time inside the back of the bar with your hands on balance sheets instead of on dirty plates in the kitchen.

Weeks of finding a new accountant turned into months, and when Jinyoung finally did find a replacement, he ended up still keeping you in the same position to double-check the numbers on the sheets, claiming that you might have been a lot better than the accountant if you’d been a little older and gone to college.

A year had passed since you’d first entered the club, and while you were doing really well at your job, and while your mother and brother kept theirs, your combined efforts were still not enough to cover the fees for your father’s surgery. You could feel the weariness in your bones at even the thought of how everything you’d done up until that point seemed like an endless uphill climb. But you knew in your heart you would do it all again, if you had to.

_Dahyun-ah, how are you? It’s my graduation tomorrow! I hope you can come, even if we haven’t heard from you in a while._

The memories of your weekends with Nayeon and Jeongyeon felt like a whole other life away from you, right then, even as you read Nayeon’s most recent text. The last time you’d seen them, let alone responded to any of their messages, must have been almost a year ago.

You were happy for Nayeon for finishing high school, but not happy enough to give her an answer.

As it turned out, fate would do you dirty and make you face her in person anyway, a handful of months later, on one midnight in September.

You were on your way to the kitchen to ask the sous chef for the employee lunch when your gaze fell upon a familiar head of brownish-black hair slouching over a tall glass of iced tea at the bar counter. You had to do a double take to make sure your eyesight, or the purposefully limited lighting at the club, wasn’t betraying you.

When you got close enough to know for sure that it was who you think it was, you stood over her and called her out. “Nayeon unnie?”

Sure enough, it was Im Nayeon who turned her head in your direction, looking at you with wide eyes. “Dahyun-ah!” she exclaimed, immediately jumping up and wrapping you in a tight hug. You bit your lip in a futile attempt to stop the accursed butterflies (that she could still summon even after all this time) from flying around inside you.

“What are you doing here, unnie?” you demanded as soon as you pulled away, your brows furrowing together. “How did you get in?”

“It’s great to see you, Nayeon unnie,” she answered dryly, rolling her eyes. “How have you been, Nayeon unnie? I’m sorry I missed your graduation, Nayeon unnie.” Her lower lip started to jut out into a pout as her sarcasm gave way to a slightly annoyed expression. “You could have started with that, you know.”

You sighed. “Okay, I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch for so long. I’ve just—I’ve been really busy.”

“I know. It’s fine, Dahyun, really.” 

“Seriously, though, what are you doing in here?”

“Right back at you. What are _you_ doing here? I’m nineteen, I’m allowed. You,” she pointed at you with a long index finger, “aren’t.”

“I work here.”

If Nayeon’s eyes were wide when you first called her name that night, they became as large as saucers upon hearing your reply. “What do you mean, you work here?” she said tersely, nostrils flaring, body tensing up and looking ready to get you out of the place. “What kind of work?”

You cleared your throat, trying not to think of whatever array of jobs were going through Nayeon’s head right then. “I used to work in the kitchen as the sous chef’s sous chef, so to speak. And then I lucked out and ended up helping with the club’s finances and stuff.”

You saw Nayeon visibly relax, puffing her cheeks and letting out a relieved breath. “Okay. Okay, good, at least it’s not anything you don’t want to do.” She turned back to her iced tea and sat on the stool she’d hopped off of earlier. “Sit with me?”

You nodded, sliding into the seat on Nayeon’s left. “So,” you say after a beat or two, “If you’re allowed in here, why are you drinking an iced tea instead of something alcoholic?”

“I’m allowed in here, yeah,” she answers immediately, taking a quick sip off the straw of her drink, “but I can’t take anything with alcohol until I turn twenty, and that’s not until a few weeks.”

You hummed in acknowledgment before you began with another question. “Why didn’t you bring Jeongyeon unnie with you? I know she’s eighteen, but I’m sure you would’ve figured something out, wouldn’t you?”

At first, you thought it was just a trick of the light (or lack thereof) when you saw Nayeon’s eyes harden at the mention of Jeongyeon’s name. But when she said, “I just didn’t want to,” with a cold, clipped tone, gripped her glass of iced tea more tightly than she did a minute ago, and burned a hole through the bar counter with her stare, you knew right then that something wasn’t right between the two friends.

The silence stretched between you as you wondered whether or not you should say anything in response, broken only by the continuous blasting of EDM from the club’s speakers. 

“Hey, Dahyun-ah, can I ask you something?” Nayeon said so softly, you barely heard her voice over the music.

You turned to her. “Sure. What is it, unnie?”

“If I was—” she started, before nervously chewing on her lower lip. You didn’t miss the shimmer of unshed tears in her eyes, reflected by the dim lighting. “If your parents were my parents, and they found out I was gay, would they—would they hate me?”

It was a question that had often crossed your mind, ever since you’d internally admitted your feelings for Nayeon, but never gave yourself the chance to dwell on, afraid that the answer would most likely disappoint you. But right then, as you actually sat and thought it through, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, it might not turn out so badly, after all.

“Honestly? My dad is fighting for his life, and both my mom and Myungsoo oppa are busy trying to keep their jobs.” You frown, still immersed in the thought. “I really don’t think any of them can afford to disown you. Not right now.”

Nayeon’s lips curved into a sad smile. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to unload my family drama on you.” 

“Hey, no, of course you can talk to me, Nayeon unnie,” you said hastily, grabbing her hand (determined to ignore the flutters in your stomach as you did) and trying to be reassuring. “What happened?”

You squeezed her hand affectionately, and did your best to steel yourself for whatever she would say next, but you failed to anticipate the next words that came out of her mouth. 

“I ran away.”

\-----

You don’t think you’ll ever be ready for this conversation.

And yet, when you see an obviously nervous Nayeon through the peephole of your front door the next evening after school, surprised to find that she’d cut her hair short, you realize you don’t have much of a choice.

You’re hyper-aware of your heart thumping against your chest as you open the door to let the older girl inside. When she wraps her arms around you in a hug, you smell the same lotion she’s been using for the last few years, and yet, there’s a hint of something else, something like vanilla and citrus, mixed with it.

“Dahyun-ah,” Nayeon starts, an apology already at the tip of her tongue. “I—”

“You should sit down, unnie,” you interrupt, shutting the door behind you and taking quick steps towards the lone sofa in the living room. You watch and wait for the other girl to sit down on one end before you sit on the other. Nayeon shoots you a pained look when she notices the distance you’ve put between yourselves, but you choose to ignore it. 

Maybe you want to see a fraction of the hurt you’d experienced in her hands reflected in her eyes. Maybe you aren't feeling too kind today. 

“Are your mom and Myungsoo oppa still at work?” Nayeon asks, making an effort to cut through the tense atmosphere. 

“They’ll probably be back in an hour or so,” you answer, with not even a hint of warmth on your tone. “So you have until then to say whatever you came here to say.”

“I understand.” She moves closer to you, until your knees are almost touching, and you try to ignore the urge to move further away. “I—I’m sorry for… for everything, really.”

“You're gonna have to be more specific, Nayeon unnie,” you say with a wry smile. “Do you even remember what happened back then? After we left the club?”

“Of course I do,” she says quickly, her gaze falling downwards, hands balling into fists on her lap. “And I get it if you refuse to forgive me. I haven’t forgiven myself for it, either.”

_Because Nayeon absolutely refused to return home, you told her she could stay at your house in the meantime, although you were more than a little worried she would find your place much too shabby compared to her family’s spacious, three-story mansion._

_You had a three-hour window before you had to go to the hospital that morning. You made sure the older girl was settled in, lending her one of your long shirts, as well as pajama bottoms that stopped short of her ankles because of your height difference. You decided to forgo your usual one hour nap in your bed and save it for a few hours later at the intensive care waiting room_ — _it’s not like you’d be able to get any sleep anyway, if you had Im Nayeon lying next to you._

_And so you took a quick shower instead, and you were in the middle of rifling through your closet when you sensed a presence behind you, air ghosting the back of your neck and making the hair there stand on end. With only a towel covering you (you’d realized too late that you should’ve prepared your clothes in advance and changed somewhere else), you suddenly felt uncomfortably exposed._

_“N-Nayeon unnie?” Your voice came out in a squeak. “Wh-What are you doing_ —”

_You felt her hands on your waist turning you to face her. “Dahyun-ah…” she trailed off, eyeing you from head to toe in a way that was all too similar to how some customers at the club tended to look at you. “Can I…”_

_“C-Can you what, unnie?” you whispered, startled at how Nayeon’s lips were suddenly mere inches from yours, feeling her warm breath tickling the tip of your nose._

_In an equally low voice, she asked, “Can I kiss you?”_

_Four words you never thought you’d ever hear Nayeon say to you. And yet, there she was, asking for your permission. Of course it would turn you into a stuttering, gay mess._

_“U-Unnie, what_ — _Why, all of a sudden_ —”

 _You felt her hand stroke your cheek, her thumb tracing your lips. “Please,” she pleaded, and the pain she’d been carrying inside her was all too evident on her features. “I_ — _I really can’t take another rejection right now.”_

_Cursing your inability to say no to Nayeon, and a large part of you aching to know how her heart-shaped lips would feel on yours (but what did she mean by “another rejection”?), you squeezed your eyes shut and gave her a hurried nod. Sure enough, you felt a series of gentle, almost pillowy pecks on your lips, and they parted in mild surprise at the sensation of Nayeon’s tongue sliding over them. It wasn’t long before you both fell to the bed, Nayeon hovering on top of your towel-clad self as your kissing turned into full-blown making out._

_You were sure your inexperience was showing, but judging by the way Nayeon was hungrily attacking your lips, you could sense that she was almost new to this as well. That didn’t mean her mouth wasn’t making your toes curl, your senses focusing on nothing more than the adoration and the lust meeting together with the press of your lips._

_All the while, you felt her hands closing into fists on your towel-covered waist, struggling not to wander. Letting out a moan that you would probably not soon forget, she snaked her hand lower, towards the hem of your towel, the tips of two fingers just about reaching the inside of your thigh._

_“Dahyun,” she half-whispered, half-moaned into your mouth, her hand moving dangerously further inside your towel, “I_ —”

 _You turned your head to the side, eyes pressed shut, lips pursed tightly until they turned white, resigned to the certainty that Nayeon wouldn’t be able to stop herself and take all that she could get from you_ —

_And then she seemingly snapped out of it, looking horrified at what she was about to do. She scrambled to a sitting position at the foot of your bed, wringing her hands together guiltily. “Dahyun-ah, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”_

_You let out the breath you’d been holding, holding the towel closer to your body as you tried to get your bearings. “I_ — _I’m going to change in the other room, and then I’ll h-have to go, unnie,” you told her, your mind still cloudy, your voice struggling to maintain an even tone. “You should stay, I’m sure Omma and Myungsoo oppa won’t mind.” You stood up, hastily pulling out a shirt and jeans from your closet, before you made your escape, your heart still thundering loudly inside of you._

You try to blink away the tears that are just starting to form on your eyes. “But you left, Nayeon unnie,” you finally let out. “You went and disappeared and left me nothing but a note and your money, and you left me beating myself up wondering what I could’ve done to make you stay.”

“Dahyun—” Nayeon says, looking as devastated as you felt. 

“I’ve been wanting to ask this for so long, unnie,” you cut in, no longer able to hold your tongue, two years worth of questions at the forefront of your mind. The other girl fixes her eyes on you, preparing herself for what you would say.

“If I let you have your way with me that day… If I let you fuck me…" You wince at a little as you hear your voice crack, "Would you have stayed?”

Nayeon visibly swallows, the troubled expression never leaving her face. Still, you could see that she was determined to give you a truthful answer. “I—As messed up and confused as I was, I… I would still have run away, to be honest.”

“Okay,” you breathe, the emotions whirling around inside of you, mostly resentment, anger, a desire for revenge, and a chunk of heartbreak, ripping your chest apart like a tornado, were starting to take their toll on you. You lean back on the sofa and stare at the ceiling. In a smaller, much more vulnerable voice, you ask, “Where did you go, Im Nayeon? I—I actually tried looking for you after you left. I even asked Jeongyeon unnie.”

_You burst into Jeongyeon’s room as soon as you got her older sister’s permission, and the girl in question looked up from her phone, the redness that could only be caused by fresh tears showing in the rims of her eyes._

_“Dahyun-ah? It's been so long!” she said, and was about to hug you but then stopped short, noticing the seriousness of your stare. “Is… there something wrong?”_

_“Do you know where Nayeon unnie is?” you questioned, starting to pace in a straight line below the foot of Jeongyeon’s bed as you recounted the events of the previous night, from the time you’d met Nayeon at the club to when you’d left her at home, leaving out the less than appropriate parts._

_“So she really did run away from home,” she muttered, more to herself than you. In a louder voice, she said, “She sent me a text about a week ago. She told me not to look for her.” Jeongyeon’s sorrowful eyes fixed themselves on the invisible lint on her sheets. “She says she doesn’t want to be found.”_

_“So that’s it, then?” you persisted, refusing to believe that Nayeon’s best friend wouldn’t want to go search for her. “You’re just not gonna do it because she said so?”_

_It took a while for Jeongyeon to meet your gaze, and when she did, it held a look of finality. “Believe me, Dahyun-ah, if Nayeon unnie doesn’t want anyone to find her, they never will.”_

Nayeon can't help but let out a sheepish laugh. “I wandered around for a bit, actually.” You catch the way her eyes light up as she continues, her lips slowly parting into an affectionate grin. “A classmate from university took me in, and helped me get a job so I could survive without my parents’ money. She’s been helping me understand myself better. I’m really grateful.”

You nod, satisfied to hear this bit of information. “That’s good, Nayeon unnie,” you manage to say with your voice steady. “I don’t know if I can forgive you yet, but I’m happy for you. I want you to know that.”

“Thank you, Dahyun-ah,” Nayeon answers gratefully. “It means a lot to hear that from you. Especially after all the trouble I caused.”

“Have you talked to Jeongyeon unnie?” 

At the mention of her best friend’s name, you see the exact same steely expression on Nayeon’s face that you did two years ago at the club. “No. I haven’t. I don’t think I want to.”

You decide it isn’t your place to pry, so you leave it at that and let out a sigh.

“Is there anything else you want to ask?” Nayeon says, with just the tiniest hint of sarcasm in her voice. “Because I actually came here with questions of my own, if you don’t mind. Starting with,” she pauses, “Why did Tzuyu come home crying after going out with you?”

You shut your eyes, trying hard not to imagine a Chou Tzuyu full-on sobbing because of you, but ultimately failing when the image of her meeting your gaze with tearful eyes the day before flashes in your mind. Your face scrunches up into a pained grimace.

“Fine, I’ll ask another question, instead. Do you care for her?”

“I—” you hesitate. “I think I do.”

“You ‘think’ you do isn’t enough,” Nayeon snaps, clearly protective over the new subject of the conversation. “If you do, stop making her cry. If you don’t, get the hell away from her.”

“Help me figure it out then, Nayeon unnie,” you tell her suddenly, your turn to inch closer to Nayeon’s personal space. She instinctively backs away, but you know your next words would make her reconsider.

“Let me kiss you,” you say in a low voice, leaning closer and reaching for her cheek with your hand, “and we’ll call it even.”

You see the wheels turning in Nayeon’s head, her rationality fighting with years of guilt. When she lets you come even closer, your eyelids flutter closed, preparing yourself to fall into her lips once more.

And yet, it’s Tzuyu’s lips that your mind gravitates towards, even as Nayeon’s are a mere breath away from yours. It’s the thought of how Tzuyu had gingerly covered your mouth with her own the first time that sends a new flurry of butterflies to your chest, and it dawns on you that the feeling would be here to stay. 

Before both of you can meet in a kiss, you pull away in shock; Nayeon pulls away in both relief and a realization of her own.

“Nayeon unnie,” you say slowly, as slowly as the cold fire running through your spine, “I need to apologize to Tzuyu. I need her to know that I _do_ care for her.” You end with a pleading look that you hope will convince Nayeon.

“Can you help me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my portrayal of Dahyun here could be a little... uhh... manipulative (a lot manipulative), and while I do think she could become a master strategist in real life if she puts her mind to it, I know Dahyun is too pure and would rather smother everyone she loves with love. This is just my take on exploring the original character in that manga Fragtime. 
> 
> Annnnd... the 2yeon and dayeon? Anyone see that coming? 
> 
> Since I'm a sucker for sanayeon, I'm planning on writing a oneshot spinoff of this story once this is done. Hopefully that's going to be even a little bit interesting.
> 
> (By the way, the appearance of JYP was a last minute thing, please forgive me.)
> 
> Thoughts and feedback are fo sho appreciated! See you in the last one!


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